


Love, hate and marriage

by nannyslf



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nannyslf/pseuds/nannyslf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the year of 2030 where gay marriage was legalized everywhere and the prejudice in society was mostly banned, Harry was forced into something so archaic and overpast, he could hardly believe. He, Harry Edward Styles was being forced upon marrying someone he did not and wouldn’t ever love, Zayn Malik."<br/></p><p>But, when you share a life with someone things might change and you can accidentally fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry for the eventual typos. I really hope you like it because this story is my baby. If you have anything to say, please comment in here or in my tumblr: the-romantics.tumblr.com, I'm really looking forward to your feedback. And thanks for reading this, it means the world to me. :)

 

  Marriage is supposed to be based on love, on true promises that two people who found everything in each other make when they are ready to start a life together. A life of “us” and no longer “I” or “myself”. It’s the blessing that some seek to guide their life trough the pure joy and hell with someone else. Is no longer live alone, sleeping in your own bed, is to divide all the sorrows and conquers. That’s what Harry Styles learned in his entire life. He’s grown on that conception and it was something he always wanted for himself. Now, that was lost, probably forever. In the year of 2030 where gay marriage was legalized everywhere and the prejudice in society was mostly banned, Harry was forced into something so archaic and overpast, he could hardly believe. He, Harry Edward Styles was being forced upon marrying someone he did not and wouldn’t ever love, Zayn Malik. It was outrageous, awful, but true.  

  Being the son of a tycoon had its ups and downs, really, but this was too much. When growing up, Harry was taught to be always graceful, strong and smart. He was born to be just like his dad, running the Styles Group Inc., marrying a socialite, maintaining a perfect image. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted for himself, but Harry tried his hardest fulfill all his duties. Except for the fact that he was gay, so the whole socialite thing wasn’t happening. You would think that his father could disown him for it, but no, Mr. Styles had bigger plans for that matter. Harry’s homosexuality was accepted with much love and support, especially because now he could use it; use his own son for the success of his business. It has been two years since the Malik Enterprises and the Styles Group Inc tried to unite, but there was always something in the way of making the perfect deal, until one day when the heads of the two companies (Mr. Styles and Mrs. Malik) were discussing the best way of making it happen and their children got in the middle of the conversation. Zayn Malik, a brilliant young entrepreneur who had two diplomas in the London School of Economics and in Oxford and was just now becoming the junior CEO of the company and Harry Styles, graduated in English with Summa Cum Laude at Yale University, for a year now editor chief of the Styles House of Publishing. Two gifted kids who could work just fine together, they concluded, so why not marry them? It would be perfect for business and though Zayn isn’t gay per say, it didn’t matter, the boy was married to his work anyway. Both parents convinced themselves that their kids could find happiness with one another or at least perfect balance. After all, love was overrated.

 Harry hated the idea at first and he continued to do that after six months of preparation. It was depressing and crazy, he barely knew this Zayn kid — at least not enough to spend the rest of his life with him. But, contrary to him, Zayn accepted it, it wasn’t easy to sacrifice his freedom and the women, but it was for the sake of his company and he would do it in a heartbeat. So, Harry was stuck in a dead end. He hated Zayn at first sight. An arrogant boy who possessed a disturbing beauty — he was all lashes, hazel eyes and golden skin — and distant behavior. It was obvious that he was straight, you would have to be an idiot not to see it and the thought of marrying someone who couldn’t even be with him at all was even worse than he imagined. Oh God, what happened to his life? Harry was completely screwed.

  The wedding was in three weeks and the whole London couldn’t stop talking about it. It was all over the news and magazines, his engagement ring was everything people wanted to discuss over and over again, Harry was sick of it. Yes, it was a beautiful jewelry that came from Cartier’s — His favorite. He was pretty sure his mom told Zayn that. —, but the whole thing was a nightmare. The engagement party was the event of the social calendar, but it felt a lot more like a business meeting. It was people shaking their hands, congratulating them for the success of the companies and sharing their votes for Harry and Zayn’s shining future, it all sounded so fake. He loathed it. Sometimes he cried from despair, wondering what would be of his life now. Happiness definitely wasn’t part of the deal anymore, what he was entitled in this existence was a trust fund, a facade of marriage and one prosperous empire.

  With his world turning upside down, the only thing that remained the same was his beloved job. Harry was an editor and it was a dream came true for him. Day after day he would read books and help writers reach their goals in career and improve their art. It fulfilled him in a way nothing else ever could, the only time in his miserable living where he was actually happy. Harry held onto it like it was everything he had, because it truly was. His family had trapped him in this situation with an irrefutable argument that if he didn’t do it, than the future of the work of a lifetime and also of his publishing house would be uncertain, if not lost. What would Harry do, but not to bend over his father’s plan? No way to stop it or change it. He was Harry Styles and this was his fate.

~

  The dinner in the Malik’s residence was served at eight; The Styles family had been there since six o’clock. Everyone was in the garden, talking about the upcoming nuptials. Harry was immersed in complete silent, just like Zayn. The never talked about anything, it was a living hell to even peck each other’s lips on the engagement party and try to act like they were actually in love.  But, in front of their families — Harry’s married sister Gemma, his parents, Zayn’s mom and his three loving sisters — they didn’t need to put up an act, to engage a conversation or hold hands. It was much easier to be themselves in small gatherings like that one.

— Why are you so sad? — Saafa, Zayn’s baby sister, asked him.

— Is it so obvious? — Harry asked back.

— Well, you’re not talking to anyone and you just have this sad, sad look on your face… Do you need a hug?

  Saafa’s big adorable hazel eyes popped out in her face with a compassionate look. She liked Harry from the start and she didn’t understand why his brother didn’t fell in love with the boy instantly, he was so beautiful with those green eyes…

  Harry laughed at her words and denied with a nod from his head.

— I’m okay, don’t worry.

— Okay, so smile a little.

  Since they were seated side by side, he had to turn his head a bit more to look at her face completely and give her a gentle smile. The two families were seated in a table, sharing the rest of the afternoon tea and watching the sunset. Everybody talked amusedly, sharing their ideas for the wedding.

— Haz, what do you think about lilies for the decoration? — Harry’s mom asked, interrupting his current chat with Saafa.

— I don’t have an opinion about it. — _I don’t have an opinion on anything really. Otherwise, this wouldn’t be happening right now._ He added in his mind.

— Well, sweetie, it’s your wedding! You have to think about these things. Zayn certainly won’t.

  The honey toned skin boy was silent, his attention completely focused on the Blackberry in his hand while he typed furiously.

— Zayn, you’re being impolite to our guests and we’re discussing your wedding. — His mother reprehended him.

— I’m sorry. What are we talking about?

— Flowers, darling.

— Mom, I don’t care about this stuff! Just pick what you like best or take the girls with you to decide these little details.

— You don’t seem to care about anything. — Harry whispered absently minded.

— What did you say? — Zayn wondered with a cold glare.

— Nothing.

  They stared at each other for a few minutes and the whole world seemed to go on mute. The dislike between them was palpable and evident in the air. Ever since they met, both Zayn and Harry ignored each other masterfully. The only times they interacted were in front of outsiders who may judge the validation of their upcoming union. It was horrible to pretend to like someone you didn’t even knew and this was their reality for the rest of their lives. How could that be fair to any of them? Zayn was straight, he’ll probably want a woman by his side, but now that wasn’t really an option. If he ever cheats, then he’ll have to be the most discrete person in the universe while doing. Because being caught meant exposing himself, their families and more important: their company.            

  The same was for Harry. He should give up on finding a man he could love and built a life for real and all of his romantic illusions. Although they dislike one another, they both felt sad for each other because only them in the entire world understood all the things they were giving up for this. Too many and too much. But in the end, none of it really mattered.

  Dinner was pleasant for everybody, minus those two. Zayn bearably ate and Harry didn’t spoke a single word. When the time to leave finally came, he was so grateful. All he wanted to do was to get back to his loft and hide beneath his blankets for the rest of eternity.

 They said their goodbyes and Zayn spoke very coldly to Harry:

— Goodnight. I’ll be seeing you.

— ‘Night.

  And that was it. The only words they spoke with each other after three hours of stillness.

~

   As the big day approached, their encounters were becoming more and more frequent. They had to meet for rehearsal dinners, events when they appeared as a couple and many disturbing family reunions. But, the worst day of all was when they first visited their new residence — a wedding present from Mr. Styles. It was a huge Victorian house in Chelsea with two floors, four bedrooms, two living rooms, spacious kitchen, internal pool, a library, two offices, one backyard and many other rooms. It was huge, sophisticated and beautiful. Harry hated it and Zayn didn’t say anything about it, just nodded and thanked Mr. Styles for it.

  He hated it because it didn’t feel cozy and definitely did not seem like a home. It was pristine, but somehow cold and distant, like Zayn, like his future life. Harry cried almost all night because of that. This wasn’t a life, it was a living hell.

   They were in a cozy family lunch in the Styles mansion. Once again his and Zayn’s relatives were reunited to talk about the wedding. Harry was getting really tired of all the bullshit, but he knew that he had to be grateful that at least his mother hired a wedding planner, because there was no way neither him or Zayn would plan any of it. The topic of the hour was their first dance.

— I can’t believe we actually have to do it. — He whined.

— It’s a tradition Harry and people expect you to follow it.

— But, I don’t want to! And I bet Zayn doesn’t either.

   He was wrong. Zayn simply shrugged and said:

— I don’t mind.

— You never do. — Harry replied with a deadly tone. The boys shared a cold glare, before Zayn’s mother interrupted it:

— It will be beautiful, just play along with it.

— Yeah! Just two old fellows spreading their love! — Mr. Styles spoke with a grin on his face.

— Father, don’t ever talk something like that again. Ever.

— Sorry kid, just trying to help.

— You already did your fair share of “helping”. — Harry responded sarcastically.

— Don’t be like this, son.

   He ignored his request and shut off the people around him, getting lost in his own thoughts.

  It was probably half an hour later when someone talked to him and he actually paid attention:

— What do you think the song to your first dance should be?

— I don’t know. Like Zayn says, I don’t care about these little details…

   It was obviously a pinprick directed to his fiancé who in response looked at him with much displease.

  Mrs. Styles ignored the hostility between the grooms and kept talking:

— Well, maybe I Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You would be suitable.

  Harry burst into a hysterical laughter, it took him a while to calm down and wipe the small tears in the corner of his eyes.

— This is the best joke I’ve ever heard.

— What?

— Mom, c’mon. I could spend my entire life without looking at _him._

  That was enough! Zayn stared at Harry with pure anger possessing his hazel eyes.

— Would you stop offending me and drop the attitude? You’re being a complete arrogant asshole!

— Me? Asshole? Says the brilliant fucking pretentious entrepreneur who thinks of himself as the center of the bloody universe!

— Shut up! You’re the one acting like a jerk, the whiny baby who can’t accept his reality so slashes out at everybody! Grow up, Harry!

— You know what? Go fuck yourself, Malik. — Harry said madly. He stood up, pushed Zayn aside and stormed out of the house leaving everyone shocked.

  His mind was buzzing with incessant thoughts. God, how much he hated the stupid prick that was Zayn Malik. He was just so full of himself, talking like he knew Harry or something! For Christ’s sake, the whole situation was so pathetic! Zayn was a fucking womanizer, known for his arrogance and his snobbish ways and now he was trying to teach Harry a lesson? Again, he could straightly go fuck himself.

For a moment, Harry stopped in the middle of the street completely out of breath. Was he supposed to marry that guy? Spend years and years with that person? The realization of that hit him in the guts one more time. It was incomprehensive, what the heck in the world he did to deserve that? Filled with bitterness, he walked directly to a bar and ordered a glass full of whiskey. It was time to make the memories and ideas go away.

~

  The night before the wedding Harry thought of running away. He even packed all of his things furiously, planning of travel to the USA and build a life in New York, he could be happy if he did it. It was the city of Woody Allen, of course he would be. But, Harry couldn’t. At the last minute, with everything set, he sat on the floor of his apartment and looked at his bags and cried again, for the millionth time. He hated it, all of it. Zayn, his parents and this stupid wedding. Like, they are not even writing their vows the way he always dreamt of, because really, what could they say about each other?

_“Hey, I hate you and I don’t even know you. It’s good to be marrying you, let’s do it again some time.”_

  That wouldn’t work. What would work was to recite the regular vows in front of everyone and a peace judge at the castle’s garden tomorrow. Yes, the wedding was in the Styles’ Castle in the country side of Scotland, it was a huge enchanting place with lots of rooms to receive their families and a few guests during the festivities. And then as soon as their appearance at the reception finished, Harry and Zayn would leave to Paris for their week long so-called honey moon. It was 2 o’clock in the morning when he finally managed to sleep and before fading away in the darkness of the mind, Harry did something he hardly ever did before, he prayed.

    It was a beautiful summer’s day and Scotland was shining. Harry looked tired and worn-out, but it was his fault. His parents tried to cheer him up, his sister held his hand the entire morning, but there was a moment where he had to be alone. Harry had to dress and prepare for the ceremony. There weren’t enough words in the world to describe his melancholia at that moment. This was supposed to be the happiest day in his life, but Harry felt like he was falling on an obscure hole to never see the light again. With nothing else to be done, he shrugged the heartache and put on the fakest smile on his face. It was time to pretend.

   A lot of familiar faces were occupying the chairs in the garden. The whole thing looked like it came out from a fairytale, with flowers everywhere, an angelic marble fountain, and the sunset gracing the sky. You would think that it was impossible to be unhappy in such a place, but Harry managed to do it just fine. After many days of this torture, he discovered that misery suited him; it did a lot for his features like accentuate the immensity of his green eyes and the softness of his pale porcelain skin.

  He didn’t remembered exactly how this was decided, but he was the one to be handed to Zayn at the altar. Thinking about it, it came to him that Zayn didn’t have a father to take him, so Harry would have to be the “bride”. It was a bit weird, but it wasn’t like he disliked it or anything, it was quite great to be true. Everyone gazed at him while he made his way to Zayn and Harry knew that he looked great. All dressed in black and white, with a pastel pink tie and a rose of the same color in the lapel.

  For a moment, when he looked into Zayn’s eyes while walking towards him, Harry felt something funny in the inside. There were bloody butterflies flying in his stomach and his chest felt so heavy with eagerness for something he couldn’t understand. The whole world seemed to vanish before him and all he could see was Zayn. He looked good, amazing if Harry was willing to admit. His fiancé was all in grey, but wearing the same tie and rose the in lapel as he. They made a good-looking pair, Harry concluded. In pictures, they would always look good together, almost like “meant-to-be” or something. But, the reality wasn’t as simple as that. Their appearances meant nothing if what they felt on the inside belied all of that. How weird was to feel melancholic and amazed at the same time. Such a bittersweet confusion.

  Together they recited their votes, held hands and stared into each other’s eyes. It was strange and unique at the same time. The usual hostility wasn’t there, it had been replaced by an extraordinary nameless feeling that made the boys very, very quiet and peaceful. Somewhere along the way, while professing his words, Zayn’s eyes made a promised to Harry. He wasn’t really sure of what was it, but it had been made and he saw it clearly. For reasons Harry couldn’t understand, the promise made him a little bit more secure, even if he didn’t know its meaning.

 After saying “I do” they realized that that was it. They belonged to each other for the rest of their lives. It was funny how now they were entitled to share a life with one another. But the questions remained: considering how things were between them, what did it all meant? To never be alone or to be more alone than ever?

   Harry and Zayn were longing for the answer of that question.

   The reception was beautiful. Every penny paid to the wedding planner was worthy, because she did an incredible job. The party was placed in the garden as well and it was decorated in tones of pastel and pink, with paper lanterns hanging in the tall threes, a huge dance floor, several tables scattered and a stage where a string quartet and jazz musicians played for the guests.

  Harry was impressed; it all looked like the wedding of his dreams. Zayn looked quite wonderstrucked himself. It was a starry night and the sky seemed to glow a little brighter than any other day he had ever lived. How come everything seemed to so perfect when in the inside it was so broken? Harry didn’t know how to feel. He was holding hands with Zayn and even though they hated each other, he was quite grateful to have his fingers firmly intertwined with the hazel eyed boy, otherwise he would just faint. It was such a strange situation.

  They greeted their guests, took pictures together and Zayn made the toast saying how grateful he was and how much he loved Harry. Now, that was a huge lie, but who cared? Together they sliced the cake, drank champagne from the other’s glass and now it was the first dance.

— I’m not sure about it. — Harry whispered into Zayn’s ear, a little bit scared.

— It’s okay. You told me that you took 3 years of dance lessons and I did something like it. There’s no need to be nervous. — He said while pulling his husband closer.

— Okay… I’ll t-t-try to stay ca-calm.

— We’re together on this. You don’t need to stutter, just breath, okay? — Zayn squeezed Harry’s shoulder in a sign of encouragement and comfort.

   The jazz singer started to play It Had To Be You, their song:

_It had to be you_   
_I wondered around_   
_And finally found somebody who_   
_Could make me be true. Could make me feel blue_   
_And even be glad, just to be sad,_   
_Thinking of you_

  Harry was sure he mom picked it, but he couldn’t be mad at her for that. It was a wonderful song, one of his favorites and even though the lyrics had nothing to do with his and Zayn’s true story, he tried to savor the moment. They floated across the room, their movements seeming to go perfectly together and it was very graceful. It didn’t feel weird to be this close, with his hand on Zayn’s small back and Zayn’s fingers pressed against his shoulder, it was like their bodies were use to it.

_For nobody else gives me a thrill_   
_With all your faults dear I love you still_   
_It had to be you_   
_Wonderful you_   
_It had to be you_

   It was a perfect dance and it felt like Harry was in a Disney movie. The world looked like an enchanted place and he felt smooth on the inside. Zayn’s hands on him also seemed right, but it was all over too soon. They parted their ways at the end of the song and he remembered that he hated that man and they together would never make sense. It was just a stupid phony marriage.

— I told you! We did just fine. — Zayn congratulated him with a grin.

— It was okay, thank you. — Harry replied coldly.

   Zayn looked at him surprised. How could his mood change so fast? Harry was so complicated… It hit him that this humor was going to his constant companion. _Oh, Lord, have mercy on me, please_. He begged in his mind.

 — I’m going to dance with your mother now, ok?

— Do whatever pleases you, Zayn.

   Everybody joined them in the dance floor and only two hours later the newly-weds could departure to their honey moon. They said their goodbyes, faced the rain of rice that encouraged them to create roots together — accordingly to Greek culture — and only then left for Paris. The city of Harry’s dreams.

   The flight wasn’t so long and Harry slept through it. He didn’t realize until he was awake that he was lying on Zayn’s shoulder and actually drooling a little on his shirt. Zayn didn’t seem to care, though.

   Paris was a magic city. It had that vintage romantic feel about it, with the lights, parks, little coffee places and unique architecture. Like Hemingway once said: “It was a moveable feast”. Harry loved the poetry of it, the grayish tons of the city, especially when it rained and everything seemed to acquire a soft glow.

   The honeymoon was a present from Zayn’s family. It was told that they deserved the best and when it came to Harry, it strictly meant Paris. When Zayn was asked to opine about it, he said that whatever his groom wanted was fine with him. So, that led them straightly to La Reserve Paris hotel in the supremely chic 16th arrondissement.

 

   Their suit was decorated in a contemporary elegant style. It wasn’t really of Harry’s taste, but Zayn seemed to be pretty satisfied with it. He shrugged off any annoyance and tried to enjoy that fact that he was once again in Paris. The place was more than just a hotel room: it had a lounge, bathroom with shower and a bathtub, large balcony with a table and two chairs, countless couches, divans and armchairs. There was also a large closet where they placed their bags.

    When they finally reached the room itself, it only had a king sized bed, another balcony, a dresser, few bookshelves and a divan.

— There’s only one bed in here.

— We’re on honeymoon, Harry. People expect us to sleep together.

— But, we’re not going to. Right? — He looked at Zayn very alarmed.

— Of course not, but we’ve got to keep the appearances. So, we’ll always stay in places with one bed to share. But, in reality we don’t really need to do it. I mean, there’s like ten couches and divans on this thing.

— Like you said, I’m on my honeymoon. I don’t want to sleep on a couch, I’m taking the bed.

— Well, screw you and your needs. I want the bed too! — Zayn replied stubbornly.

— I’m not giving up on this, Zayn. We can fight about it forever.

— Then, it’s probably a good time for me to tell you that I grew up with three sisters, and I can stay on this game as long as you me to. Have years of practice in it.

   Harry sighed on exasperation and they both stared into each other’s eyes for long minutes.

— You just suck. — Harry whined and Zayn smirked deviously.

— I’m awesome. And since I’m older than you, this is the natural course of things, Harry. I get some privileges.

— Shut up, Zayn. You’re like a year older than me or something! Don’t talk like you’re fortyish and full of wisdom. You are fucking 25!

— And you are 24, young Harry. So much you need to learn from life yet…

   Zayn laughed loudly, loving to mock his new husband.

— Fuck you! Gosh, I hate you so much.

— It’s a good thing then that I love myself enough for both of us.

— Don’t ever call me young Harry again. Like ever. And also, don’t act like you are fucking Dumbledore! We’re sharing the bed, by the way.

   Zayn still smirked at all Harry’s words until the final observation on the sentence.

— We’re what?

— Yes, young Zayn. You see, I was nobly giving up the bed and ready to sleep on the couch, but you, mister, were so full of yourself that I thought the lesson of sharing was going to help cool your ego down.

   Harry smiled with pure evil painted on his face.

— See? You married an almost-entrepreneur, filled with street smart. You can even try to hire me in your company, I’m sure I can help you with all the holes in the administration. Not sure if I’ll accept the proposition, though.

    Zayn was livid with anger.

— Fuck you, Harry! Like a thousand times fuck you! I don’t want to sleep on the stupid bed, you can take it.

— And people said you were a hard nut to crack. I think I should just agree to disagree on that. 

— I’m going to strangle you on our wedding night. It’s not going to be pretty, Styles.

    Harry chuckled openly at his spouse and then walked towards him. They weren’t so far apart in the first place, so it only took him a few steps. When his face was only inches away from Zayn’s, he muttered:

— Darling, imagine what a huge scandal it would be if the junior CEO of the Malik Enterprises killed the heir of the Styles group, and more important, his husband. Now, you would not want that, would you?

    His green eyes possessed such a hardness and merciless cold that Zayn feel goosebumps in his arms. He was also very mad at his stupid groom, obviously, _who the hell Harry thought he was to talk to Zayn like that?_

— You know, I like it when you call me Styles. It was a very nice thing for us to agree not to change our last names.

— Get the fuck away from me, Harry! — He shouted.

— Happy to please you. — He walked away from Zayn and into the closet. Few minutes, he was back with a change of clothes and his Ipod in hand.

— Excuse me, I’m off to my shower now.

   Zayn flipped him off and he just laughed.

   Harry was pretty content with himself while he turned the hot tub on, throwing lavender and sandalwoods essential oils in the water. His favorite scents in the entire world. After doing it, he plugged his IPod on the Stereo sound — like every “diva”, he had his demands about the hotel room — and soon Edith Piaf’s voice was calming his nerves while singing  La Vie En Rose.

   When he finally entered the tub, Harry felt the hot water relax his muscles and his head light. While listening to the song, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Random thoughts came to him; like Paris was a state of mind and he should enjoy it while it lasted, that he was no longer an available man and at last that he had a lot to do in this week. Many things were clouding his head. But, he tried to let go of all of them and just focus on the Parisian feeling.

   It had been more than an hour since Harry tucked himself inside the bedroom. Zayn listened to Edith Piaf, Diane Keaton covering Seems Like Old Times and another bunch of jazz songs. He actually quite liked it, but what kind of person stays so long in the shower? For Christ’s sake! He was now getting distracted from his beloved work. All the time since Harry gladly disappeared from his view, he worked on his notebook. Sending memos, creating strategies and making connections through emails. It had been an endless day and now he was tired. All Zayn wanted to do was to shut off the Mac book and go to sleep, but before he could do it, a shower was needed.

— Harry, won’t you get out of the bathroom? I need to take a shower too!

   Little did he know that his husband was long gone, napping on the hot tub.

   After two minutes of no answer, Zayn walked to the door and knocked loudly on it. It didn’t take long for Harry to wake up scared, turn off the music and make a mess in floor with all the water that came out of the tub with him.

— What do you want? — He asked angrily, a towel loosely hanging on his hips.

     Zayn tried not to, but it was impossible not to notice how Harry’s body seemed to be made of marble. It was fucking perfect, with every muscle highlighted by the paleness of the flawless skin and the entries below his toned abs pointing directly to… well, it was better left unsaid. Nevertheless, his man’s body had that visual quality that could be so easily transformed into art, like a painting or sculpture. With his never ending torso and beautiful face. He sighed, trying to remember himself just how much straight he was.

— Take a bath, obviously. You’ve been there for more than an hour!

    Harry was indifferent to everything, even Zayn’s long gaze to his body.

— I’m almost done, just let me put my clothes on. — Then he shut the door in Zayn’s face.

    Zayn was more of a shower man, so he just passed right trough the tub and into the box. He changed the thermostat to cold and enjoyed the feeling of the water heavily hitting his body. That was all he needed to clean his spirit.

   It didn’t take long and they were both in bed, awkwardly lying side by side but with several inches separating them. Harry wore his long sleeved flannel pajamas whereas Zayn was only in his boxers. They turned the lights out and just stayed in silence, not sleeping but hearing each others’ breathes. To much surprise, they found it to be peaceful and reassuring. Soon enough both boys were asleep.

~

   Zayn woke up first. The sunlight was all over the room, filling it with a soft glow. He looked at his side and there was Harry. Truth to be told, he had a nice face. Even more than that, he had a perfect one with delicate features, pinkish lips and a killer jaw line and to top it all, fucking dimples that he had the opportunity to see a few times. He married the man of many women’s dreams; that much Zayn knew. It was almost a shame that he was straight. _Almost._

  He slowly got up from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. It was time to awake for the fast life that waited for him.

   Harry awoke with sound of Zayn’s slamming the door behind him. His eyes were a little blurred, but he could see his spouse fresh from the shower with his black hair dripping, wearing a blue social shirt and black skinny jeans. No tie, though.

— Good morning, Styles.

   The green eyed boy rubbed his eyes and then faced the clock on the dresser by the side of the bed, it was seven o’clock!

— Why are up so early? We have nothing to do.

— My habits die hard, Harry. Also, I have plenty of duties to fulfill today.

— Wait, — Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. — You’re going to work on our honeymoon?!

 — Of course! I have a job that I need to honor.

— So do I, but come on! You’re licensed for this!

— I don’t care and it’s not like we’ll be doing anything, right?

— You’re such a fucking workaholic! — Harry criticized with disgust.

— Let me be. But I asked something, answer me.

  He thought for a moment before answering Zayn. Obviously they weren’t going to enjoy their honeymoon like normal couples with tons of sex or anything — _how sad._ — and it wasn’t like he was crazy to spend all his free time with Zayn, but he did want company for dinner and few museum visits and stuff like that. Zayn was the only person available.

— We should do some things together. — Zayn eyes popped out at the statement. — For the sake of our farce.

— You’re right. — He replied, and then scratched his chin absently minded. — There’s something you like to do in particular?

— We should dine together every day, obviously. There is a bunch of Parisian restaurants that I love and I want to go to all of them before we leave.  I also think that we should go on dates, like visiting museums and some parks.

— Okay, I’m fine with that. But the park thing, it includes picnics?

— It’s a good idea. But, there’s a problem.

— What?

— You’ll have to pretend to be charming and delightful for that, can you handle it?

— Fuck you, Styles!

— You love me. Now, I'm going to take a shower. Be a doll and order us breakfast, okay? I want french toasts, apple tea and banana croissants. Orange juice too.

— Right, my lord. I'll do it right away. — Zayn replied ironically.

    Harry giggled and got up the bed. He passed next to Zayn and their bodies brushed for a moment, just long enough for him to smell the delicious scent of strawberry in his husband. It was funny, because Harry never thought of him as the kind person who would use fruit scented shampoo. It suited him just fine, though.

    An hour later, Harry got out of the bathroom properly dressed and ready for a long day. He found Zayn sitting in one of the chairs of the table on the balcony, breakfast fully served. Harry joined him and begun to serve himself right away.

— Have you starved yourself to fit in that tuxedo? — Zayn joked while staring at the curly haired boy who was putting all kinds of things in his plate.

— Don't mess with man and his food, Zayn. That's the best advice I could ever give you.

— Sorry, curly. I'll try to take up on your wisdom. — He said and then took a sip from his black coffee — no sugar, but a touch of cinnamon —. Not that he was less hungry than Harry or anything, but Zayn wasn't one to eat too much. For him, a mug of coffee and a baked baguette was about enough.

— Don't call me curly! — Harry whined, between bites from the toast.

— I like it.

    Harry glared at him and then turned to his croissants. He ate in silence for probably half an hour, eating a bit of everything. Muffins, toasts, fruits and even some of Zayn's baguettes.

— Fuck, I cannot believe you eat that much! How come you’re not fat or something?

— I love to exercise and I only eat what's necessary for my body. Now, leave me alone okay?!

— Whatever.

    They sat there for some time, breathing in and out Paris's air and its atmosphere. There were moments were they peaked at each other, not sure of how to feel about it. The dislike was palpable there, but it wasn't the only thing present, a few funny feelings were there too. How weird.

— You really enjoy old music, don't you? — He observed.

— It relaxes me. — He answered with a grin.

— It's nice. You have a good taste, Styles.

— You like it too? Never thought you would be the one to.

— Harry, there's a lot you don't know about me.

— I know. And yet, we got married. That's one of life's weirdest jokes.

— God, you've got to stop being bitter about it and just let go.

— Fuck Zayn, it's impossible to let go of it! I'm attached to you for the long ride! We're not in love, hell, we don't even like each other! How am I supposed to drop this?

— I can't argue with you about that. Let's just go, ok? I have an appointment at nine o'clock and I can't be late. I'll drop you on the way.

     The car ride was silent. Harry’s mind was stormy and confused while Zayn just stood there as cold as a fucking statue.

     They made plans to meet up for dinner in the at the Pierre's Bistro. Harry planned to have a lovely day enjoying all the things he liked about Paris. He visited the Louvre, lunched at L'amoure coffee and then shopped at the 16th arrondissement. When it was six o'clock, he got back to the hotel to clean up; the arrangement was to meet Zayn in the restaurant.

    The Pierre's bistro was a sophisticated little place with a very romantic decoration, candles everywhere and cute flower arrangements. Seated in the corner, there was Zayn. Although Harry didn't like to recognize, his husband/antagonist had a lovely face. A dramatic one, with high cheekbones and chocolate eyes, full rosy lips and a profound melancholic look. Harry loved it. No, no, not love. He... admired it.

— Goodnight, Zayn.

— Hey. — He replied quietly.

— So, did you order anything yet?

   Zayn was distant and cold. Harry didn't know what was off about him, but he was concerned. It wasn't a welcome feeling in his heart, but he couldn't change it.

— No, what do you want?

— Champagne, I'll order for both of us.  — He called the waiter and made his request. Zayn wasn't really thirsty, especially not for champagne, but he was tired and it was much easier to let Harry take the lead on the dinner

   Moments of silence passed between them. Harry was feeling awkward and Zayn seemed to be somewhere else entirely. He wanted the boy's attention, Harry didn't like to be left out.

— Zayn, talk to me. — He asked, making a pout.

— I'm sorry, did you say something?

— Yes, I'm requesting your attention. We're here together.

— I apologize once again for my behavior. What do you want to talk about?

— I don't know. What did you do today?

— Nothing pleasant.

— How come you're in Paris and not have fun?

— I'm not a fucking primadonna, Harry. Don't have time to go around and enjoy myself. That's your job.

— Don't treat me like that. I'm trying to be nice here. — Harry demanded serious.

— Am I supposed to apologize again?

— No, I don't want your fake excuses. Just treat me with respect, I work too and I understand where you're coming from, I only ask you no to lash out at me.

— Okay.

  The waitress served them champagne and both of them sipped on it. Cole Porter started to play on the speakers and Let's Do It (Let's Fall in Love) hit Harry's ear filling him with pleasure. He started humming to the music, for a minute forgetting the heavy atmosphere between him and Zayn.

  Zayn noticed how Harry looked pretty singing along to the song. He was such a harmonic human being, in the matter of face features and symmetry.

 — That's a nice song.

— I know, I love it. Cole Porter is a genius.

— Never heard him.

— How come?

— I don't know, Harry. Growing up I was very much fan of rock and R&B. Jazz came in third and it wasn't my focus.

— I liked Elvis and classics, but you already know that last part.

— Yeah. — He gazed at Harry, his head bumping on the side while trying to understand the man on the front of him.

— We should play a game! — Zayn suggested with a smile.

— What?

— Well, I'll tell you a word and you reply with the first thing on your mind. Then you do it with me.

— Okay. I’ll start! Candy? — Harry said anxious. He loved play games and it wouldn’t hurt to know a little more about Zayn who was always s mysterious.

— Milk duds.

— Hm. — Harry frowned.

— What?

— I'm more of Kit Kat man.

— Well, I have a different taste. My turn! Perfection?

— Books.

— Weird answer, Harry.

— Forgive me, I'm a nerd.

— Highly doubt that.

— Why?

— You just seem the type of guy who would rule the high school. I mean, look at you! The looks, personality and the money. Typical crowd sweetheart.

— Such a judgmental guy! Let me guess, you were the bad boy? Always in trouble, but secretly one of the best students. I'm mean, that's the only way you would get into Oxford.

— You may be right.

— I find it adorable for us to put each other in stereotypes.

    Zayn laughed out loud. For the first time in the day.

— Like a real couple would do.

— Now, that's funny. — Harry giggled and then added — my time to ask you: something annoying?

— You.

     Harry stared at him pleased with the answer. He was a sucker for honesty and he found a great joy in the fact that he could push all Zayn's buttons.

— How charming, Zayn.

— I'm adorable. — He replied with a lovely pout.

— You are. — Harry agreed, smiling largely.

— Now, answer me: A dream?

— Happiness.

— Aren't you happy now?

— No. — He professed resolute.

— Wow. 

— Are you?

— I guess so. I love my work and family.

    Harry reflected for a while on Zayn's response. He was right; there were a few reasons to be happy. But, he, Harry, couldn't see things the same way because love was a huge part of his plan to be fulfilled in life.

— I think we should order. — He said in attempt to change the subject.

— Fine.

    Dinner went smooth after that. They discussed other things about themselves and shared a few laughs. It was kind of pleasant, time passed fast and when it was midnight the couple was a bit drunk.

— Zainy, let's walk home!

— Harry, it's late. — Zayn whined.

— But, it's midnight in Paris. We should enjoy it while we can. — Then he was all dimples and beautiful smiles. Zayn couldn't resist it.

— Okay, let's do it your way. 

    They walked and walked, sometimes talking, others just absolving the view. It was good. When they finally reached the hotel, both were tired and sleepy. It didn't take much for them to fall into unconscious together in bed.

~

  The next day was fun, they parted their ways once again and Zayn worked while his husband flavored the city. Dinner was pleasant, they talked, fought and Harry slept on the couch out of frustration.

— I had a blast sleeping on that bed alone. — Zayn teased him during breakfast.

— Shut the fuck up.

— Why are you so tense, hubby?

— Don't call me hubby. Never call me hubby.

— Why, hubby? I’m fond of it, there’s ring to it. — Now he was doing a pout. A lovely, sexy one that made Harry wanted to shove him against the wall and kiss the fuck out of him.

— I hate it. Frankly, I hate you.

— This way you're going to hurt my feelings. — Zayn looked offended, both hands resting in his chest.

— I hope so. — Harry murmured between bites of his chocolate muffin.

— Do you want a sip from my hot cocoa?

— Why are you offering?

— Because I want to please my sweetheart.

— I hate you on sarcastic mode. — He glared at Zayn coldly.

— It's been a pleasure talking to you, hubby, But now I need to go. See you at the park at two o'clock. I'll bring the wine, take the food.

    Harry grumpily agreed.

    Zayn got up from the breakfast table, grabbed his suitcase and before he disappeared out the door, he blow Harry two kisses. The response was a loud "fuck you" that made him burst into giggles.

     It was a sunny day and the park was habituate by kids and old people. Zayn was in a good mood, he made excellent deals and now he had the rest of the day off.

   When he spotted Harry sitting in on the grass, with a red towel in front of him along with a picnic basket, he immediately smiled. The sun was peeking through his hair, making it glow softly. The green in his eyes were lighter and even with golden freckles on it, how beautiful.

— Hey, Styles.

— Zayn!  — He exclaimed, feeling strangely happy to see his husband.

— It's beautiful in here. — Zayn said, seating down next to him and placing the bag and suitcase in his hands on the ground.

— It's Paris, baby! Everything is pretty, poetic even.

    Zayn laughed, thinking about how Harry looked exactly like a child when talking about the city, he's green eyes widening and glistening so much.

— So, I brought strawberries covered with chantilly, baguettes, cheese and macaroons.

— Oh God, I love macaroons! — Harry grinned at him, loving to see Zayn look so young and happy. By now, he'd have learned how rare that was.

— Me too! There's chocolate flavor, vanilla and cherry.

— Here's the wine. — He said, grabbing the bag and pulling out the dark bottle. Harry grabbed paper cups as Zayn opened it. When he filled both of their cups, they made a toast to Paris, honoring all its perfection and the happiness it brought to one green eyed guy.

    The afternoon passed slowly, they got a bit drunk, rode bicycles (Harry's idea), took a walk around the park and then sat down again. 

— You are so slow! Like, I ultra passed you a hundred times in the way.  — Harry gloated with smirk that revealed his dimples.

— You're bump, Harry! You sit around all day while I work. I'm tired! You better out run me.

— Don't get grumpy just because you're a loser.

    Zayn shoved him into the ground, but what he didn't expect was that Harry would pull him by the shirt so they could fall together.

    They were face to face, green eyes meeting hazel ones in a shock of bliss and surprise. Harry muttered:

— If I'm going down, you are coming with me.

— You are so merciless.

     Once again, they stared at each other so profoundly, hoping to reveal all layers and discover what's hidden inside them. What unspeakable, forbidden true was buried deep in their hearts? What was that growing ever so slowly, creating roots in them?

— With this face, Zayn, you deserve no mercy. You already have it all.

     The brutal honesty of Harry's words got him off of guard. For a moment he lost it and almost, _almost kissed him._ But, as fast as it came, the feeling ran away from him. All that was left was the fear and longing mirrored in Harry's eyes. Zayn backed away from him.

     Before they could even process the strangeness of the moment, a blonde guy appeared in front of them.

— Excuse. I've been watching you for a few minutes now. If it isn't a bother, can a take a picture of you? — He asked in awfully carried French accent.

— Of us? — Zayn wondered.

— No, I mean just him. — He pointed at Harry. — You have the most interesting face I've ever saw.

   Harry blushed and the boy smiled. He was a handsome guy, Harry noticed. With grey eyes and golden hair, the type of man he liked. But that was off the table now, obviously. Zayn was right beside him, with this bitter face like he just ate something rot.

— I don't mind. — He answered, completely ignoring Zayn.

— Well, thank you. — The blondie replied, grabbing his camera and focusing on Harry's face.

   He didn't know what to do, whether to smile or not, should he do a meaningful look?

— Am I supposed to do anything specific?

— Be yourself.

     So, Harry smiled his big, full of dimples, lovely smile. The one where even his eyes shined heavenly with ethereal joy.

     The boy took probably five or six pictures and Zayn was getting really annoyed.

— Enough! — He complained.

— I'm sorry, you're right. I think I'm good.

   Harry gazed Zayn, not knowing why he was so upset.

— You don't need any more?

— No, but thank you. You're beautiful.

— I don't think you understood, but we are married. He's my husband. You can't act like that around him, it's inappropriate and I'm getting really upset.

    _Oh fuck._ That was all Harry could think, because he could not believe what just happened.

— Oh, I'm so, so sorry. — The photographer said, his cheeks going red.

— Just get the fuck away from here.

    The blonde ran away and Harry stared at Zayn who refused to look at him back.

— What was that, Zayn?

— He was flirting with you shamelessly, with me being right here. That's fucking disrespectful. 

    Harry didn't really know what to say, so he kept looking at his husband for a long while.

— You know, — he finally said — I never took you for the jealous type.

— I'm not jealous! Hell no! I just want to be respected, that's all.

— Whatever you say, Zainy! — Harry replied with a cheeky smile.

— Shut up! Let's just go, it's getting late anyways.

      The ride was short and quiet. When they made it to their bedroom, Zayn locked himself into the bedroom, leaving a very confused Harry behind. They didn't exchange any words for the rest of the evening, but when it was time to go to sleep, both lay down on the same bed.  Even though he would never say it, Zayn was kind of happy; the bed was too big for just him.

~

      It was rainy morning in Paris. Harry woke up to the noise it made while hitting the window, it was his favorite sound in the entire world. When he glanced at his side, Zayn was still asleep. It was an angelic view; he was just so peaceful, completely different from his passional-aggressive personality of the daily life. This didn't feel so bed, to lay there with a beautiful man listening to the rain in Paris, the city of lights. Harry could honestly do much worse. He turned to the window close to the bed and tried to enjoy the stillness of everything.

— What are you thinking of? — Zayn asked in a raspy voice. Harry faced him surprised.

— Hey.

— Hey. You seem so thoughtful, what's on your mind?

— I don't know. I guess life could be much worse.

    Zayn laughed and the sound of it, ever so rough from waking up and because of his natural ways made Harry shiver.

— You're right, sir.

— Sir? Really?

— Yeah, you're married man! This is how you're supposed to be called.

— Zayn, I think you wake up every day with a different nickname for me. It's so weird! — He whined and did the cutest pout. For a second Zayn wondered to himself if he could kiss it off.

— You are baby, do you know that?

     Harry chuckled in his childish manner.

— Yeah, I think you should spoil me then.

— You are already too spoiled.

— There's no such a thing!

— Of course there is, just look at you! You've got "spoiled" written all over yourself!

— Leave me alone!

— You’re pouting, just like a child. It's the second time you do it just this morning.

— Are you counting how many times I do it?

— No, maybe I should start.

— I'm tired of this conversation. I want breakfast, go order for me. — He demanded.

— Bossy little kid.

— I'm not a little kid. I'm young man, twenty four years old, give some respect.

     Zayn laughed openly, making Harry smile along with him despite his will.

— That's something I refuse to do, Styles. Now go shower and I'll order us something to eat.

— Okay...

     They had a lazy day, Zayn only left for a while and Harry spent most of his time in the hotel, swimming in the pool and reading. He wanted to relax and it went perfectly, he even met a really cute guy who talked to him for hours about Paris and the cities he visited around the world, his name was Nick. Harry liked him; they arranged to meet on the following night for drinking and more of the good conversation. He didn't felt the need to tell Zayn about it, so all the way through dinner they only talked amenities and not once he mentioned his new acquaintance.

   The fifth day of their honeymoon was by far the most troubled. It started out very normal, with Zayn calling him of a new nickname, this time it was: cutie pie. Causing Harry to ask him where the fuck he found those stupid names and Zayn to laugh pleased.  Then he went to one of his meetings and they agreed to meet up for lunch, since Harry had an appointment in the night with one of his parisian friends. Everything was okay then. But, when it was all dark outside that everything went wrong.

   Nick and Harry were dining in the restaurant of the hotel. The conversation between them floated easily and laughter was coming very naturally, almost like the perfect date. Except, they were friends.

— So, Nicky. Blondes or brunettes?

— Green eyed, dark haired beauties are my weakness.

     Harry laughed at his flirty tone and though Nick was very handsome, he knew that this was going nowhere. After all, he was a married man now.

— Stop it or you will make me blush!

— That's the whole point! — Nick replied with a shameless smile.

— Let's just order okay?

     As they waited for the food, the boys joked and talked about their past. Harry told him that he was married and Nick said it was a shame, but if he could do anything about it, then he would.

      Harry ordered lobster while Nick requested for pasta. Once they started to eat, the talking was vanishing and at some point Harry got dirty with butter. Nick leaned into him and with his thumb he cleaned softly the green eyed boy's face.

— What the fuck is going on here?

      And like he came up from the ground was Zayn in his most angry expression.

— Hi, Zayn. This... this is Nick. My friend. — Harry replied completely nervous.

— I don't want to know the name of your fucking boy toy! I want to know what the fuck you are doing here flirting with this asshole!

— You've misunderstood this, mate. — Nick said, trying to smooth his way out of this mess.

— Don't talk to me, you prick! This is my fucking husband, what the hell are you thinking to caress his face?

— I was just helping him.

— You know what, fuck you two.

     Zayn stormed out, slamming the doors of the restaurant and making quiet a scene. That was the moment when Harry knew he was definitely screwed and not in a good way.

— Nick, I have to go. — Harry said apologetic. He left a few bills on the table to pay for his part on the check and then ran up to their bedroom.

— Zayn? — He asked while opening the door. When he entered the room, there was glass all over the floor. Shit, Zayn was one of those men who just broke everything in front of him in moments of madness? It appears to be.

— Zayn, where are you?

    He found Zayn in the balcony, a glass of Whiskey in his left hand, his face closed in a quizzical brow.

— Hey. That down there, it was not what it looked like. I swear.

— That's funny. Because I'm pretty sure it was exactly what I think I saw. — Zayn spoke deadly. — It was you whoring around. What's to misunderstand about that?

— What did you just say? — Harry asked out of shock.

— You whoring around. What could possibly ever confuse you in this sentence?

    Without thinking for a second Harry walked towards Zayn and when they were close, he slapped him in the face. Just like that.

— Fuck. You. — He said to Zayn. Now there two mad people in the room.

   Zayn glared him like in any second he might kill him. But he didn't. He walked past Harry who had now cold tears rolling down his face and left the room. For many hours.

    When Zayn finally came back, he smelled of alcohol and most of his conscious was gone. He lied in the sofa after stripping his dirty clothes and fell asleep right away.

    The morning after was hell. Zayn had a massive hangover and Harry a killing head ache. They didn’t talk. After taking his cold shower, Zayn left without having breakfast and Harry ate alone in the balcony. Then, he realized that all the progresses they made were lost. If he thought things were hard, now they were going to be at the very least awful between them.

    They still had two more days of honeymoon that were spent in complete silence. It was like they were merged into their own private separate bubbles, completely apart and untouchable. Zayn acted like Harry didn't exist and for the other it was reciprocate.

  And even if Harry tried his hardest to forget everything that has happened and to just enjoy Paris in those last days, it was impossible. There was this grudge growing inside of him, he simply could not get over it. He just kept thinking about it, about Zayn and what he did to him, sure, Zayn was an asshole, but he hit him on the face. That was just wrong and though he was still mad, Harry also felt very guilty.

   Of all the things that could make this situation better, the only thing Harry could think of doing was talking. But, he couldn't do it. To talk to Zayn was probably the same as to open himself to a whole new world of hurt and anger, and of that he already had enough.

   The departure was fast and Harry felt both sad and relieved to be leaving. It would be nice to get back to some normality, but he would miss the city and the good times he had with... _Zayn._ The nicknames, the dinners, the conversation, he would miss all of those things. Even if he hated to admit it. 

  In the flight Zayn seated in another chair — away from Harry, leaving no opportunity for contact. When everything was silent, all the passengers asleep, Harry was still up. His mind couldn’t stop thinking how unpredictable life was, how just like that — in a second, even. — his relationship with Zayn was gone with the wind.  


	2. Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Paris, things changed completely and both Harry and Zayn are unsure of where to stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THIS: Hey guys, thanks for all the love! You are so, very great! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Your comments are everything to me and you have no idea of just how many smiles your words brought to my face! So, I know I promised part 2 for this week, but it turns out this story is going to be way longer than I planned (so much to write! so many ideias!), I figure I would slice part 2 into halves, so you would have something to read this week. I hope you guys like this, sorry for the typos and PLEASE LEAVE YOUR COMMENTS! WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! :)

    The Victorian house was amazing. Really huge and had a library for Harry to work on and a beautiful garden, more rooms that he could count and they also had a cook, a housemaid and even a butler. It was a good life. Except it wasn’t, it really wasn’t. It was lonely, sad and cold. No more or less than that.

    When he wasn’t buried in work, hiding in the library, Harry spent his time on the TV room watching hundreds of movies or swimming on the pool. He almost never got a glimpse of Zayn, they were sleeping on separate rooms and the hazel eyed man left early on the morning before breakfast and got home at midnight, going to sleep right away or locking himself in his office. The contact between them was zero.

   How not to feel like the most alone person in the world when you’re in this situation? On the dark stormy nights Harry would cry silently, because sometimes it all would hurt too much and he couldn’t take it. Somehow he had to let it out and burning tears was his escape. He wanted to talk to Zayn, he really did, but what to say? It had been a couple months now and it felt like the time to work things through was long gone. They were far apart and sometimes it felt like Zayn was nothing more than a memory he had lost and now was longing to reach again, but there was nothing but air for him to grab. It was that desperate.

   If Zayn spoke to him ten words a week, it was too much. He could spend hours next to Harry (not that it happened often, most of the times he was away) and not say a single thing. In family dinners and parties, he would accompany Harry and only be nice to him in front of other people; the minute they left, it was like the green eyed boy stopped existing to him.

   It was slowly killing Harry, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Most of the times, he tried to forget it by hanging with his best friend and main writer Louis or his co-worker (also an editor) Niall. It used to take his mind off of things, but not for long. Eventually he would come home and find all the broken things he tried so hard to avoid. There was no pretend in the world that could erase those. There were open wounds and unhealed fresh scars that Harry could not fix, because he needed Zayn for that. And Zayn didn’t need him. Not a bit, not at all.

   It was a rainy saturday and Harry was on the TV room watching The Purple Rose of Cairo yet again. It was his favorite movie and he could not get over it, Woody Allen was his idol and Harry kept watching his movies over and over again. It helped him to stay sane and even somehow happy in the middle of the mess he was currently on. In that moment to say that his heart almost stopped when Zayn barged in the room was a euphemism.

— Hey.

   Harry stared at him, not believing it. Zayn spontaneously came to talk to him? What?

— We’re supposed to attend this really important ball next saturday and everything must come out perfectly. We’ll have to dance and act real couplish.

— What?

   He could hear the words coming out of Zayn’s mouth but not really understand it. It was messy inside his brain, not making the least bit of sense.

— A ball, Styles. We’re going to a ball later this week and it means a lot to me. There will be a lot of contacts and I need to look as much put together as I can for the sake of the company.

— Why do you need me for that? — He asked, his face frowning. Of course that the only time Zayn decides to speak with him is because of his stupid company.

— Because I need to present a united front of our family and that is us.

— Nothing in this entire world is more broken and apart than us, Zayn. — Harry said harshly.

   Zayn glared him for a while, but it felt like forever. It was such a long time since he actually saw Harry, not quickly glance at him or look without really focusing, _but seeing; acknowledge his existence and take it in._

— I don’t care about that. What I need from you is to act like a proper in-love couple, for the show. That’s all.

    Rage took over Harry’s mind in a second. He wanted to punch Zayn, to hurt him bad and hard. He just doesn't care about anything, he never does and Harry… Well, Harry… he simply wanted him to care, even if only a little.

— Get the fuck out, Zayn. Right now. — He shouted, turning his face away from Zayn so the other lad woudn’t see the angry tears that were threatening to fall.

   Once again Zayn stared at him. He couldn’t really see Harry’s face and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. There was no energy inside of him to fight the curly haired boy and his purpose was only to talk about the ball, once that was over, he didn’t need to stay, so he left. And Harry turned the TV really loud, blocking everything that wasn’t him and Mia Farrow.

   All those feelings kept inside was torturing him, so sunday he stayed  in bed all day, falling asleep, waking up feeling tired and then passing out again. Better than getting up to meet or worse not meet Zayn. Also there was this constant head ache that made him even more aphetic. It was seven o’clock at night when someone knocked on his door.

 — Leave me alone. — Harry screamed instead of asking who it was.

    The door fled open and Zayn was inside.

— Are you sick? — He asked in annoyance and something else that Harry could not recognize because it didn’t feel natural in Zayn’s voice.

— Why do you care?

— I don’t. — He snapped. — I mean, I… Just cause… — Zayn said without really knowing how to justify.

— Get out.

— Aren’t you hungry? You didn’t eat today.

— Again, why do you care? — Harry shut his eyes, not wanting to see Zayn’s beautiful and agonizing expression.

— Fuck Harry, what’s up with you? I’m here, am I not? It supposedly means something. Tell me now, are you ill?

— Supposedly? Really? Just get out, Zayn. I’m tired. We don’t talk, worse than that is that whenever we do, it just ends badly like last night, so let me be. 

    Zayn sighed out of frustration. Harry was completely honest and truthful, but it wasn’t about their fucked relationship that he was there for. It was simple, he was kind of worried for Harry’s health and that should be enough! Why were they arguing about the lack of contact between them?

— I’m gonna get you some soup, okay?

    Harry shrugged, he didn’t really care.

    Soon enough and Joffrey — their butler — was carrying a tray with tomato soup, crackers and orange juice.

— Good night, Mr. Styles.

— Hey, Joffrey. — He replied quietly, feeling his head pulsing hard.

— Mr. Malik told me to bring you these. — He placed the tray on the bed, next to Harry.

— Thanks.

     Joffrey handed him the spoon for the soup. Harry took a few sips and then stopped. He wasn’t hungry at all, actually he felt a bit noxious.

— Are you finished? You haven’t eaten at all, Mr. Styles.

— I’m good. You can take it away, please. Where’s Zayn?

— He left, Sr.

   _Of course he did._ Harry thought bitterly. What were the chances of Zayn actually sticking around to take care of him? Frankly, he was stupid for just summing it up.

— Is that all? There’s anything else I can bring you?

— No, it’s fine. Thank you, Joffrey.

— It’s just my job, Mr. Styles.

     And even though he was worried, Joffrey clean up and left.

     Harry was upset, truth to be told. He wanted Zayn to be there, but that was obviously too much to ask. What was wrong with him? He hated Zayn, but why was he constantly moping over that guy? It was fucking upsetting.

    The more he obsessed about it, the worst he felt — including his head. So, he got up to take a shower and maybe take a pill for the headache.  The bathroom of his suit was incredibly big, like the rest of the house; decorated with gigantic mirrors, golden details and white walls. It was a little ostensive, but he liked it anyway. 

   In front of the sink, starring at himself in the mirror, Harry felt ill. It didn’t occur to him that after all those months he had lost some weight and now looked more fragile than ever. He was also very pale and there were dark bags under his eyes. _What is happening? Where did I disappear to?_   He wondered in desperation. Who knew that getting married meant to lose yourself?

  He opened the water tap and leaned in, wetting his hands and then cleaning his face. The feeling of cold water against his skin felt good and only at that moment he realized just how hot he was. It was strange because Harry wasn’t expecting it, but he was dizzy and warm, too warm. He didn’t know when it begun, but his mind was darkening along with his sight and the last thought he had was that the world was spinning way too fast underneath his feet.

~

— Harry! — Someone shouted, but he couldn’t see it. He was cold, but then something warmer grabbed him and it all felt much better. _Am I floating?_   The answer didn’t come, for he faded into black once more inside his mind.

   There was a person petting his hair, it felt good. Was it his mom?

— Mom? — He asked before opening his eyes. The hand that caressed his hair disappeared.

— Harry? Are you awake? — That wasn’t her. The voice was way huskier and manly. Harry was curious, so he took a peek.

— Zayn? — God, his throat hurt and he couldn’t speak straight. What was going on? Were Zayn fondling his hair just now?

— Hey! How are you feeling?

   The room was in softly illuminated and it took him a moment to recognize it but it was his bedroom. He was lie down on his bed and Zayn was up his side. There was something in his arm though, a needle connecting to a sorum equipment.

  There was a hole in his memory; he didn’t remember what happened after he went to fresh up in the bathroom. Harry only recalled feeling dizzy and then losing his balance. Did he pass out? Anyway, now he was a little weak and light weighted and didn’t know why.

— Weird, I guess. What happened?

— You passed out in the bathroom, I found you there hours ago. When I got home Joffrey told me you didn’t eat, so I guess that made you weak.

    Harry frowned surprised; he would never think that not to eat only one day would lead him to this.

— Okay… Why am I using sorum?

— Well, turns out that you are sick. When I got to you, you were burning up in fever Harry! So, they had you medicated.

— You called in 911?

— No. A doctor friend of mine, which I was talking to earlier about you, came by. He treated you and got his team to come over and set this up. I didn’t want anyone knowing about this, you know how annoying the media can get.

— Thank you. — Harry said a little bit touched.

— It was nothing. — He replied quietly. — But I asked if you were feeling ill and you didn’t tell me! Fuck Harry, you can’t be this irresponsible.

   Harry sighed. Of course Zayn wouldn’t be nice for too long. Once again his was getting angry, he hated being treated like a child and Zayn kept doing it.

— Shut up Zayn! You don’t get to accuse me of anything. Where were you when I passed out? Clearly not here, so don’t come and talk to me about responsibility.

— I was out getting you vitamins! I called my friend and told him about how tired and aphetic you were and he recommended me to buy some so you could take it and revitalize your strength. I’m not a heartless monster, Harry.

   He felt bad for being mean to Zayn, but it wasn’t like his husband treated him nicely all the time. Still, he took care of Harry and that meant to him more than he could ever explain.

— I’m sorry. — He muttered.

— It’s okay. Do you need something?

— Not now.

— Well then, if you do let me know.

    Harry nodded and Zayn turned around to leave the room. As stupid as it may sound, Harry wanted him to stay. It didn’t feel right to be alone and all he needed was Zayn there to make him safe.

— Don’t go. — He asked in a small voice.

— Okay. — Zayn replied and then sat on the chair next to the bed. Harry looked at him and they shared a long stare. There wasn’t anything to say and quiet seemed to fit perfectly in the situation.

   After a while Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep, Zayn grabbed the book on the other boy’s nightstand and started to read it. It was The Great Gatsby and he had read it many years ago on high school, he barely remembered it, but recalled thinking it was good. So, he engaged into the reading and didn’t realize when he himself passed out on the chair.

   Maybe it was three or four am when Harry woke up in a blur, only to find Zayn there, in the chair, by his side completely asleep. In that moment something flipped inside him, Harry couldn’t tell what for his mind was still grog, _but it was something._

    The sunlight hit Zayn’s face and slowly he came back to reality. It took him a minute of two to realize where he was and what happened. Harry was deep asleep in the bed, looking a lot like sleeping beauty or snow white. Zayn couldn’t tell who really, but for sure some enchanted fairy tale character that all the kids loved.

     _God, you’re beautiful._

     He looked at Harry for some time and then got up to see his temperature. It was a little warmer than usual, but way better than last night. Weirdly enough, Zayn felt an urge to kiss him, but he fought it and with great effort he left the room.

     Inside his own bedroom, he looked at the clock by the bed and it was six o’clock in the morning. Exactly the time he would wake up every day. Thank God for his never ending punctuality, Zayn was never late. He went into his suit bathroom and took a shower, then dressed up for work.

   It was six forty when he got to the kitchen for a mug of coffee and maybe a toast. Emma, the cook, was already by the oven fixing him breakfast.

— Good morning, Mr. Malik.

— Good morning, Emma. How’s your family? Is Annie better?

   Annie was Emma’s daughter who suffered from severe asthma. She told Zayn that one morning when he caught her crying and he helped her. Every day since he would ask her how things were over breakfast.

— She’s better now. The doctor released her and she’s already back in school. Thank you for the help, Mr. Malik.

   He smiled gently and shrugged.

— It’s okay. So, there’s any coffee?

— Of course! I’ll get you some right now. — She got the jar and poured the beverage in Zayn’s favorite mug and after put a little bit of cinnamon powder just the way he liked it.

— Thanks. — He said when she handed it over to him.

— How do you feel about fresh baked muffins? — Zayn smirked and shook his head. Emma was always trying to feed him.

— What flavor?

— Chocolate, of course.

   He couldn’t resist it, so he ate four with his coffee and she even packed two for him to take to work.

— Always looking out for me like I’m a child.

   She laughed and Zayn said:

— When Harry wake up, please call me okay? Also bring him breakfast and make him eat for real. He must be fed to regain his strength. There’s pills he needs to take; at noon there is a medicine, one in a blue box by his bed, give it to him and also the vitamins that the doc prescript you put it in his juice and make sure he drinks it. If anything happens, let me know right away. The doctor is going to come to check up on Harry at two in the afternoon, you and Joffrey assist him on everything he needs. When he arrives, tell him to call me. I want be updated on everything.

— Okay, Sr. I’ll do everything as you say, don’t worry. I’ll look out for him.

— Thank you.

    Zayn gave her a little smile and then walked out of the kitchen. In the living room he found Joffrey already up with his suitcase in hand.

— Good morning, Mr. Malik. The car is already waiting for you downstairs. Here’s your suitcase. — Zayn took it from his hand and the thanked him.

   Zayn was already into the elevator, when he realized that there was something he needed to do before going to work. Walking as fast as he could, he got to Harry’s bedroom — he was still asleep — so Zayn took a look at him, leaned in and kissed him in the forehead. Now, he could leave and so he did.


	3. Hate (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn keeps taking care of Harry while he's sick. Also, he finally meets his doctor, Liam Payne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THIS!!!: Hey guys, so you finally get to meet Liam! I hope you will like this chapter, because their relationship just keeps growing and I'm so happy to be writing it! PLEASEEEEEE, leave your comments, because I'm ADDICTED to your feedback! SORRY, for the typos but thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for reading this!

~

   The next time Harry woke up, Zayn wasn’t by his side. Weirdly enough, he was disappointed by it. The needle was still in his arm, but the sorum seemed to be in the end. He was tired still, but in desperate need of a shower.

   Trying to stand up was really difficult and he needed help. The best he could do was call someone to assist him, so Harry grabbed the phone and rang the kitchen interphone. Emma picked up and said she would be there right away.

   There was a knock on the door a two minutes later and Harry told her to come in.

 — Hello, Mr. Styles! How are we feeling this morning?

    He smiled, loving Emma’s perpetual good humor.

— I don’t know about you, but I feel like a piece of shit!

   Alarmed, she looked at him, her big dark eyes popping.

— Don’t say that! God has been very gracious towards you, Sr.

    Now he had to laugh. Of course life could be way worse, but he really could count his blessings with one hand.

— I know, Emma. Now, could please you help me out? I’m in desperate need of a shower!

    After an hour and a lot of help, Harry was finally clean and in fresh clothes. A shower did made him feel much better, but yet there was this lethargy inside him that wouldn’t go away. He only wished to stay in bed and sleep all day.

— Mr. Styles, how do you feel about some breakfast? I made muffins this morning and I can get Joffrey here in no time with a fine meal for you.

    Harry frowned at her. First, he really wasn’t hungry; second, enough with the “mister”, made him feel too old and miserable.

— Emma, we have established before that I’m not one million years old! So, stop calling me this way. Just Harry, okay? And I’m not in the mood for food now, so maybe later?! I’ll let you know.

— But, Mr.… — she interrupted herself in angst. — Harry, you have to eat! How else are you supposed to get better?

— I don’t have an appetite right now. The food won’t go down, I know. Perhaps in a few hours I’ll eat something…

— Well, let’s do it like this: how about a fruit vitamin? It’ll feed you and it’s more suitable, since you won’t eat. — She proposed hopeful.

— You won’t give up if I say no, right?

— No, Sr.

   Harry sighed before saying:

— Fine.

— Oh, and later the doctor will come to examine you! Mr. Malik’s friend, I think his name is Liam.

— Yeah? I wasn’t aware, thanks for the warning. Do you know when he’ll come?

— In the afternoon.

— Right… well, I’m not going anywhere. — He said and then winked at Emma who just smiled before leaving.

    When Emma finally called, Zayn was out of his mind with anxiety. He found that it was very hard to concentrate on work when Harry was ill back home, he just kept worrying. What if something happen? Why haven’t Emma called yet? His thoughts running faster than the rest of his organism and more than once people asked him for his attention. It was quite disturbing feeling like this, Zayn disliked it. He wanted to focus on work, but simply couldn’t, it was all Harry, all the time, inside his brain. When his phone rang, he hurriedly picked up, first complained about why she took so long to give him news and then listening carefully. Harry was okay, thanks to God. Not eating properly, but not passing out either, so it was a win.

   Frankly, he just wanted to get home and be with Harry. Of course he was a fucking bastard, but Zayn couldn’t stop caring, even after Paris. Yeah, it took him a long while to get over the events in his honeymoon. He hated himself and Harry too for a long a time, but it was a little better now. Only a little. Zayn wasn’t one to get over things, no, he would hold a grudge larger than life and that happened with Harry. But now the younger boy needed him and Zayn made a vow to take care of him and he would do it, for as long as it takes. He would never break a promise, there was a commitment to honor there and it meant a lot to him.

   If someone told him that someday this all would happen to him, Harry, marriage, everything, Zayn would never believe it. Most of the times, it felt like nothing has changed, but it was only on the surface. Deep down, his life was completely different; Harry turned his world on the reverse. He could never understand just how crazy this guy would make him. But, Zayn always tried to remember what his mother told him: God never gives us more than we could handle. _And he could handle Harry definitely, probably, maybe._

~

  Harry was watching TV in his room when the doctor came. Liam Payne was his name; he had kind brown eyes and a sweet smile that totally melt Harry’s heart.

— Hi, I’m your doctor, Liam Payne. It’s nice to see you’re awake.

 — I’m Harry, but you already know that. — He replied giving Liam a cheeky smile.

— Right. So, I’m going to check you temperature, take off the sorum equipment and examine you generally. You’ve been diagnostic with bacterial infection, it’s probably going to take two weeks for your organism to fight it off, ‘til then you will have to feed properly and take your antibiotics.

— Okay. — He said, hating being sick. Truth to be told, Harry wanted to talk to Liam about other things, but he would take his time.

    Liam was a very careful person. He handled Harry gently, taking the needle of off his wrist. The room was silent, since the TV was now off and the only sound was coming from the doctor’s movements.

— Zayn told me you’re his friend.

— Yes. — Liam nodded with a grin. — We go all the way back to college.

— That long huh? — Harry speculated, wanting to know more. — How did you meet?

— We were roommates! It was a lot of fun, really. Zayn was one crazy kid.

— For real? I mean, he is so contained and serious.

— There’s more to him than just that. He can be all you said and also spontaneous and funny. Once we went to this party and Zayn was drunk out of his mind, he climbed in a table and sung, it was good actually, but unbelievable! And despite his distant manner, he made lots of friends. We volunteered for the campus charity work and he was great at it. Zayn is an amazing character, but you must know that.

   Harry looked at Liam stunned as the other man examined him. That didn’t sound at all like the Zayn he knew.

— He doesn’t show a lot of that side of him to me.

— Cough for me, please. — Harry did as he was told and Liam finished the check up, taking the stethoscope off.  — Look, I know that Zayn can be truly difficult and the way he acts, not letting people in… But, he’s good guy, Harry. He helped me a lot and has always been a true friend.

— I just don’t know this Zayn. We… What did he told you about us?

    Liam sighed. He didn’t know how they got into this conversation and now felt very uncomfortable. Zayn trusted him with everything, they were best friends and Liam didn’t know what was okay to share with Harry. He felt this great sense of defense when it came to Zayn and that was why he was saying those things, but also he liked Harry. He seemed to be a good person and to be trapped in this situation must be awful for him, like it was for his mate.

— I know that you didn’t marry for love.

— Yes, that… It’s really difficult. Me and Zayn, we’re not a good match. I never thought things would work out perfectly, but it has been so bad. I’m sorry for spilling out on you like this. It’s just that you are someone who knows the real him and I felt like maybe…

— I understand where you’re coming from and as your doctor, I highly recommend you to talk to Zayn. He cares for you, Harry. In his own twisted way, he does.

   After everything they’ve been through, it was hard to believe in that. Zayn didn’t talk to him for months, that wasn’t really Harry’s conception of caring. But, the way he was now also meant something, he was looking out for him and Harry recognized that.

— He has a great of sense responsibility, I noticed that. — He commented while watching Liam gathered his stuff.

— Zayn is cold at times, I from all people know this, but try to find some mutual understanding, okay? Or this situation will kill you both.

   Harry chuckled and Liam shrugged. He was done now, it was time to go.

— I’ve got to go now. But, take your medicine okay? And eat regularly too, that’s the only way you’ll get better.

— I will or at least, I’ll try. When will I be able to go to work?

— In two weeks.

— What? — Harry shouted surprised.

— Yeah, I’ve mentioned before. Your system is fighting the infection, is going to take some time.

— Oh man, that sucks. — He whined and Liam gave him an apologetic smile.

— Take care, Harry. I’ll be coming around to check on you.

— Thanks, for everything.

— It’s okay, just think about what I said.

— Fine, goodbye.

— Bye, try to rest a little.

    And the visit was over the minute the doctor walked out the door. As he laid there, Harry’s mind was filled with thoughts, about Liam and Zayn, and he didn’t realized when he suddenly, but very slowly fell asleep

~

  It was eight o’clock when Zayn finally got home. He was tired and anxious to see Harry. It had been very hard for him to stay at work and all he wanted was to leave and come home, but things didn’t happen the way he wished them to. Anyway, it didn’t matter now that he was entering the house.

   As usual Joffrey was on the living room, waiting for him, to greet him goodnight and take his coat. Zayn rushed by him to Harry’s bedroom, only to find him quietly asleep, crawled on the bed. It was a peaceful vision, he looked so… Zayn really couldn’t find the words to say. God, it was so weird, the whole thing.  He wasn’t used to worry for someone or to want to be next to a person this much, it was ages ago since he was in a relationship. Though, this with Harry was not a relationship, not at all. It was… a business transaction. Or something like it.

  Zayn didn’t realize how long he was standing there until Harry started to move and not much after, opening his eyes.

— Zayn? — He whispered in his profound voice.

— Hey.

   Harry blinked a few times, because he had this sensation of being in a dream. One of the many he had after they got back from Paris, where Zayn would be so close to him and then would vanish, just like that.

— Do you want me to turn on the lights? — Zayn asked, because except from the lamp on the nightstand, the rest of the room was dark.

    He sighed before answering yes. What time was it? Did he really sleep through the entire day after Liam left?

    Zayn’s face looked worn out and yet beautiful when the lights hit him. His hazel eyes were still sharp, but somehow also fragile. Harry wanted to give him a hug.

— How was your day?

— A lot of work… — he answered with a shrug. — What about yours? How was it with Liam?

— Fine. — Harry smiled sweetly. — He’s a real good guy.

   Zayn wrinkled his eyebrows, curious about their interaction.

— He’s a true friend.

    Once again Harry had to smile.

— Liam said the same about you.

    That took Zayn by surprise. He and Liam were close since what it felt like ages, but he didn’t expect him to discuss it with Harry in what it should be a medical visit.

— So you guys talked?

    Harry frowned, thinking carefully before saying anything. He knew just how explosive Zayn could be, a lot like dynamite and he didn’t want to take his chances when they were doing so great lately. Or at least as great as it was going to get for them.

— A little bit while he did the check up.

— Okay. — He replied a bit suspicious, but accepting what Harry gave him. — What did he say about your condition?

— That I need to eat and rest, the usual.

— Right, that’s manageable. Have you eaten today?

    If he told the truth, Zayn would be pissed. So, he didn’t exactly feed properly, but at least he drank the vitamin!

— Not that hungry. — He replied quickly and then looked for another subject. He didn’t pay attention at first, but Zayn was still in his work clothes. Did he come home and went directly to Harry’s room? That was cute. — What about you?

   Zayn frowned, he wanted to argue because of Harry’s lack of appetite, but got caught up.

— What about me?

— Have you dined yet? Or even wash up?

   Suddenly feeling ashamed, Zayn said no.

— You should then. Maybe we could… — Harry stopped himself. What was he thinking? He couldn’t just suggest things to Zayn for them to do together.

— We could what? — Zayn wondered curiously.

— Nothing. Just go take your shower before you get the entire house stinking! — Harry joked with a silly smile and Zayn rolled his eyes at him before leaving.

     After taking his shower Zayn thought about Harry, still desiring to know what would the other lad say. Maybe they could dine together; it had been so long since they shared meal. He could ask Emma to fix one of Harry’s favorites, the Bolognese spaghetti and after that, who knows? It would be nice to try, though.

    He dressed casually and then went to look for Harry. The door of his room was slightly open and Zayn could see his husband only wearing the bottom of his pajamas and wiping dry his wet hair. Why did he have to be so visually appealing? For Christ’s Sake, Harry looked like a model.

— Zayn. — Harry turned around to see him. There was a warm surprised smile in his face.

— Hi. I… I just… — why was he so embarrassed? Oh my God, why was there a blush rising in his face?  

     Harry laughed and that made Zayn straighten up.

— I wanted to know if you would want to dine… you know… together and all.

    _That was a good surprise,_ Harry thought happily. Maybe that was a start to something better between them and he wanted that for so long.

— That would be nice. Just let me finish dressing.

— Okay. I’ll wait for you on the living room.

     He used that spare time to talk to Emma and ask her to do all of Harry’s favorite and then, feeling quite awkward, he sat on couch and turned the TV on. After changing channels for a few minutes he found a rerun of Supernatural — Zayn loved it.

     In the middle of a scene where Sam and Dean where having one of their heart to heart, Harry finally appeared and sat by Zayn’s side.

— What are we watching? — He asked.

— Supernatural. — Zayn replied without looking at him, completely focused on the show.

— Nice. — Harry muttered getting cozy. His arms grazed Zayn’s and little electric shocks filled him. It was very cliché, he knew, but it was just the way he felt.

    It strange to find out that they could remain in comfortable silence for over an hour, only their bodies touching and the warmth of each other.

— Sr. the dinner is served! — Joffrey warned and then Zayn turned off the television.

— Right in the middle of the new episode! — Harry complained and then suggested with a grin: maybe we could be like those American families and eat in front of TV.

    He was joking of course, because for the british that was quite of a nasty habit. But Zayn remained serious; he was stuck in Harry’s use of the word “family”. Was it weird that only now, after months of being married that he realized that he and Harry were a family? They shared a house, their future was linked and if one got sick, well, the other would always have to take of him. Family. That’s the first time that concept crossed his mind. It was hard to grasp it, but he could see it now and it was true.

— Zayn? — Harry questioned, noticing that the other lad had been strangely quiet for the passing minutes. — Are you ok?

    He seemed to snap back into reality and his eyes focused on Harry’s face, his expression very unreadable.

— I’m fine, let’s eat.

    One they were in the dining room, seating across of one another in the long table, Harry faced the feast in front of him. It was his favorite: Bolognese pasta accompanied by baked potatoes covered with melting mozzarella cheese.

— Looks good, huh? — Zayn said loving the amazement in Harry’s eyes.

— Yeah, can’t wait to dig in! — He answered while beginning to stuff his plate.

    _This was a good idea_ , Zayn thought while he watched Harry eating properly with the same large appetite he had when they were in Paris. He was so worried that the boy would skip the meal and get even worse and now seeing him like this, he felt his heart relax little by little.

— Lord, that was good food! — Harry stated happily after finished eating the second time around.

   Zayn nodded with content, he was very satisfied himself.

— You know, I was very surprised to discover that you like Supernatural. — He commented and Zayn looked back at him his brows furrowed.

— Why?

— Hard to explain, I mean, the great entrepreneur Zayn Malik likes to watch Supernatural? I never thought you ever saw a TV show, for starters.

    This time Zayn laughed openly and truly and Harry hasn’t heard that sound in so long, he didn’t even realize that he missed it. Really missed it.

— I’m a human being, Harry. I’m not always Zayn Malik, junior CEO. I enjoy doing other things, like watching crappy TV sometimes.

— Hey, Supernatural is not crappy TV! — Harry hissed defensively.

— Sorry, you don’t need to get all touchy. — Zayn spoke back, mocking him.

— I’m not. It’s just that I really like TV shows, especially Supernatural.

— Tell me, how many is it that you watch? — He asked interested.

   Harry had to think about it for a second, because he was quite engrossed with it actually. Ever since he started to hang with Louis and Niall in his free time, he became addicted to all sorts of TV programs. They would often reunite in one of the other’s house and have long marathons while eating junk food.

— Well, there is Friends who is a must in every viewer’s life, naturally. Then Doctor Who, Sherlock, Two and a Half Man, The O.C which is one of my favorite’s actually until season 3, of course, because the rest was shit. Game of Thrones too, can’t forget to mention it because this show is like mental masturbation, it just makes me feel so much. Not as much as the books, though. The Walking Dead is pure awesome and last, but not least, my favorite comedy: The Office. The American version, obviously. See, I’m just as patriotic as the guy next door, but honestly they’ve out done us in this one. Steve Carrol is just way too much fun.

  Zayn was surprised as he watched Harry ramble about all those shows passionately. Like, that was way too many more series than he would originally thought the boy watched. Didn’t he have to work? How could he find time to watch all that? But the one thing that actually got stuck in his mind from all of what he husband said was:

— Did you actually describe a TV show as mental masturbation? — Then he burst into laughter, very loudly by the way.

   Harry blushed feeling very ashamed that he let out his dorky side so excitedly. Now Zayn was thinking that he was the most pathetic man in the whole England, perhaps the whole world.

— It’s not that funny. — Harry whined while Zayn was wiping tears at the corners of his eyes. He was laughing for good five minutes.

— Oh, it is. You have no idea!

— If your job was to embarrass me, then consider it done. Now, can we drop this subject? — He asked annoyed.

— Sorry. It’s just wow… I never saw it coming. — For a second Zayn thought he going to laugh all over again, but he controlled himself. — But, you watch Two and a Half Men too? I love it. The seasons with Charlie, I mean.

— I know, those are my favorite! — Harry exclaimed, pure excitement gleaming in his eyes again.

— I haven’t watched all of the seasons, stopped at the third and then I just kind of randomly saw the episodes that were playing on cable. But, it’s so good. Charlie is the man.

— He’s awesome. — The younger lad agreed with a toothy green and Zayn felt his heart throb a little. Harry’s smile — the real one that he gave when he was truly happy — always made Zayn’s heart skip a beat. It was too beautiful.

— I’m going start watching it again, when I have the time and patient to rent the blu-ray’s and stuff.

— Hey, I actually have a box with season 1 to 5 five. Wanna watch it a bit tonight? — The green eyed boy asked before realizing it. In a normal day, they might not even see each other at all; it wasn’t now that they were going to start doing everything together.

— I don’t know, I think I have work to do. — Zayn proffered apologetic.

   Harry avoided his gaze before saying:

— It’s okay. I’m tired anyway, think I’m gonna hit the sack.

    Zayn’s inside squirmed, he felt sad about it. Harry looked genuinely excited to spend some time with him and he just brushed him off like that. But it was better this way, after all they weren’t friends. As much as he secretly desired, he was not over of what happened back in Paris.

  When they parted ways, Harry went to the TV room instead of his bedroom. Truth was that he spent practically the whole day sleeping and now he was very much awake, needing to do something to escape the boredom.

   Staring at the gigantic shelf filled with a lot of movies — many of which he bought, he picked one of his favorite to watch and pass the time. After inserting the disc into the blu-ray player, he lied back at the enormous couch and turn off the lights, a smile popping into his face when the initial credits of “Sabrina” (the Audrey Hepburn version) started in the plasma television. Maybe he was upset that Zayn rejected him, but if anyone could make him happy again, well, it was Miss Hepburn.


	4. Hate (part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's best friend Louis finally shows up and things gets a little bit crazy. Just a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry for the typos and the grammar mistakes, okay? I'll try to work more on it. But, thank you for all the love and PLEASE keep commenting, okay? It makes me REALLY happy. I hope you all enjoy it!

~

  It was probably two a.m or more when Zayn left his office to go to bed. Walking the hallways in the dark, he passed through the rooms in his house until he heard some noise in the TV room. Was somebody in there?

  A little worried that someone might be breaking into the house, he opened the door of the room with his fist ready to attack any one — he had been boxing for nine years now and was really good at it. But, what he found inside the bedroom was nothing he would ever been prepared for.

  It was just Harry angelic asleep in the couch while the final credits of some movie played on the TV. He was snoring quietly and his face was so peaceful and lovlye that his heart did that stupid “skip a beat” thing again. It was a bit annoying, but he couldn’t help it when Harry looked so pretty under that soft glooming light.

— Harry. — Zayn called while he walked towards him. He was just standing in front of the sofa now, looking down at his husband who appeared so much younger curled in that position like a little kid.

— Harry, wake up. — He said again when his hand reached the boy’s shoulder to shake him a little. But even as Zayn did it, Harry didn’t move an inch. He was heavily asleep.

— C’mon, you need to go to bed. — Zayn said louder this time, but he only crumbled his face in the slightest bit, still froze in the position.

   It looked like not any easy attempts would wake him and Zayn didn’t want to do it rudely, not when he was still sick and needing all the rest he could get. So, there was only one thing left to do. He carefully wrapped his arms around Harry’s lean framed and then carried him. The most amazing part was that the guy hardly noticed it; he just snuggled into Zayn’s chest, his hands holding him and that was it. He was comfortably asleep again.

  A fascinated smile painted Zayn’s face as he watched Harry, feeling the warm that come out of his body surrounding him until that was all he could feel. Harry was just so light and fuzzy, like a teddy bear Zayn had when he was five years old and he didn’t mind at all carrying him around that moment. When he finally reached his husband’s bedroom he walked in and gently placed him in the bed. He then covered him with the cashmere blanket and finally kissed softly his forehead.

  Yep, just like sleeping beauty — Harry truly was exactly like a Disney princess. No doubts whatsoever about it now.  Zayn concluded with a smug smile plastered on his face. He hated himself for thinking it and feeling this loving sensation inside, but it was beyond his control.

   Ever since that second night in Paris, when they had dinner together and talked about everything and anything, Zayn just had this feeling that he could not shake. It was growing bigger than him and he knew it, but there was nothing that could be done. So when Harry hurt him that day, not only physically but emotionally, he was done. There was all this rage burning inside of him, it took over his mind completely until the point that it was all Zayn could think. But it passed, and then there was only hurt and he was not ready to deal with that. Harry just made him feel so many things and it scared him to death. During all of his life, Zayn was the owner of his emotions, no one could over power him and then comes this guy with his childish manners and breaks him completely, how could it be? So he closed himself to the green eyed boy and thought this was for the best. Honestly, he couldn’t handle to put himself out there, open his heart for Harry meant to expose something that he had hid for so long and the idea of giving it to someone else was frightening. He couldn’t do it. Zayn wouldn’t let his heart be broken even if every time he looked at Harry it fell like his inside was being twisted over and over again.

   During those months after their honeymoon, it was incredibly hard to pretend like he couldn’t see Harry in front of him. It felt like denying a part of himself because his lungs, his eyes — his whole body — begged for the other man. But Zayn ignored it masterfully, it was for the best and he couldn’t change it now. The decision had been made a long time ago, he would not open up his feelings again, it would only make everything worse between them. The real question was if he could stay faithful to that, after all those green eyes and that gleeful smile were too irresistible.

   As he lied in his bed that night, Zayn fell asleep with dreams of princes with luxurious green orbs and enchanted castles and heavenly darkness revolving around him.

~

    Harry woke up with no memory of going to bed the prior night. His eyes were still heavy with sleep as he looked at the watch on the night stand and realized it was midday. The only good thing about being sick is that you don’t need to wake up at 7 am on the dot.

   But the bad side was that he had absolutely nothing to do and no one to keep him company. Sighing hopelessly, he got up from the bed feeling rested and walked into the bathroom for a long shower.                                                

  As the water from the bathtub warmed his body, he started to think about Zayn. Was it weird that the only man that now filled his mind was him? Harry couldn’t even remember the last time he felt attracted to someone else. It wasn’t even something that he could stop or avoid; the brunet just kept popping in his head at the most inappropriate times, like now. As he looked at his body down on the water, Harry is not even that surprised to find himself aroused. It happened before, though he would never admit it. He had some dreams about Zayn holding him hard against the wall, pushing his trousers to the ground and evolving those long warm fingers of his in Harry’s length and it felt, _oh so fucking good_ , that he would wake up the middle of night completely out of breath.

  At the moment, he figured it was best to stop thinking and just follow his instincts. He wrapped his hand on his member and closed his eyes, trying to remember the feeling of Zayn’s body so close to him in the nights they shared the bed. The feel of his eyes on Harry, always so intense to the point that the curly haired guy thought that any minute he just might crumble under that gaze. Flashes of his past dreams passed in his mind, the one where he and Zayn were making out on the couch and he would slowly go down on him, his mouth exploring Zayn’s body, kissing every inch of his chest, abs, and the inner of his thighs as the older male would pull his hair roughfully and bite Harry’s shoulder, marking him. It didn’t take long for the orgasm to take him on a spasm. If that was amazing with the mere memory of Zayn, Harry didn’t dare to think how it would be like if he actually did it with him. He would probably black out afterwards.

    When he was clothed and eating by himself at the kitchen table, Joffrey appeared to give him the phone because someone was calling and asking for Harry.

— Hello? — He said at the minute he picked the devise.

— Harreh! — The voice at the other end of the line shouted and Harry reluctantly smiled. It was just the most annoying guy in the whole England calling him.

— What’s up, Tomlinson? — He asked grumpily and heard a cheeky laughter in return.

— I miss you, Styles! You have been skipping work and without my editor I have nothing to do.

— I haven’t been skipping work, you twat! — Harry scowled. — I’m sick, there’s a difference.

— I know, whatever. — Louis replied, because his favorite hobby is annoying his best friend.

— You are such shitty friend. — He declared in disgust, even though in wasn’t truth. Louis was the best person Harry’s has ever met. Their relationship was sacred in his life; ever since they met things just work out so perfectly. He was pretty certain that in an alternative world, they would be the perfect couple. But in this reality, it wasn’t like that. The truth was that there was too much brotherhood. Once upon a time they even tried dating, but it eventually faded right back into friendship, the needed sparks to sustain an affair didn’t exist between them.

— I don’t think so, Styles. After all I do listen to all the babbling about your beloved husband.

— There’s no babbling and he is no my beloved. — Harry contested frenetic.

— You can’t lie to me, I’m your conscience. Anyway, let’s not argue about it right now. I’m aware that you are all alone and I was wondering if it was okay for me to stop by and make you some company.

   Harry thought about it for a while. It was a good idea and he was tired of watching movies by himself. As annoying as Louis could be — _and it was a lot. Really a lot._ — It would be nice to have him over and maybe they could play something. Harry was tired of being alone and Zayn would only arrive at dinner time.

— Okay, you can come over.

— Just don’t eat without me okay? — Louis asked in his bossy ways.

    Harry laughed and then rolled his eyes.

— You starting to sound like Niall.

— It must be all that time we’re spending together with him talking about food in my ear 24/7! That little prick is always babbling about eating, Haz, is so annoying, I don’t know if I can take it anymore…

— Stop bitching about Niall and get your ass over here! Love you! — Harry shouted interrupting him and then turned off the phone.

    Louis would be so pissed at him for doing it. Probably will complain for hours about how bad of a friend Harry is, but the thought of it was so amusing that he just laughed.

 

   It was one o’clock when Louis’s loud, loud voice propagated in waves through Harry’s house.

— Harold Styles, where are you? Harreh, get out of your genie bottle and appear in front of me! As my editor, you have wishes to fulfill.

    In the middle of the living room, Louis William Tomlinson was shouting and being obnoxious as usual. He was a handsome man in the middle of his twenties with pretty facial features, sagacious blue eyes and a devious smile. As a writer, his temper was wild and instable, but he had the greatest heart. More than that, Louis had a sensibility towards humanity that was most unbelievable. The way he wrote about people and the universe, made Harry feel like he hasn’t seen a thing of the world because everything in Louis’s eyes looked different, felt different. He could see beauty in the most unexpected places, because in his conception misery, sadness, wildness — all the denied topics — could hold endless fascination. In one of his books he wrote: “Life maybe sad, but it’s beautiful. It will always be beautiful.” And Harry liked to believe in that. He really did.

— You do realize I’m only your editor, not your slave, right? — Harry asked when he was finally face to face with his best friend.

— Styles! I deny such things. You are my property! — Louis replied while pulling him into a tight hug.

— I can’t remember the reasons of why we are friends when you say things like these to me. — He murmured into the crook of his friend’s neck and they both laughed.

— You love me. Now, I’m starving and I think you owe me some pizza.

— I do not! — Harry retorted as he walked away from the embrace.

— Yes, you do. You lost our little bet, Styles, and I didn’t forget!

— What bet? — He asked playing innocent.

— The one where you told me you could spend 48 hours without talking about that man of yours.

  Harry blushed instantaneously. That was why he regretted telling things to Louis, because they would always, always comeback to bite him in the ass.

— That’s not truth. I never did that! And he is NOT my man! How many times do I have to tell you that?

— Are you really going to lie into my face, Styles? — Louis wondered, pulling his straight face on.

— Okay, okay… Whatever, I’ll order the stupid pizza. Let’s just not talk about it, alright? Like never.

    When it came to Louis the best things was just to give in. There was never winning with a guy like him.

— Thank you, see was that so hard?! Anyway, where is Bridezilla?

— Don’t call him that, for Christ’s sake, Louis! He has a name, its Zayn, please learn it.

    Louis rolled his eyes because those things didn’t interest him one bit. In his mind Zayn was Bridezilla and that was it. He just couldn’t understand why Harry insisted on correct him.

— Anyway, where’s him?

— He works, unlike you who just write whenever feels like it. — Harry snapped.

— I thought we agreed to never talk about my creative process again.

— I never ever agreed to that. Let’s go to the Game’s room? I want to play pool or something.

 — Wanna make a bet on the result?

— Never betting with you again. — He replied bitterly.

— Did I hurt your feelings, Styles?

— Shut up, Louis!

    As they walked towards the Game’s room and Louis poked and jumped at Harry until his best friend laughed. The truth was that he couldn’t be mad at him for long; he was not physically capable of doing it.

   The Game’s room was fairly unbelievable. It was large, filled with the coolest gadgets like an old Pac-man arcade (Harry bought it and he was so proud), a pool table and a ping pong one along with a chess board. There also a large leather red sofa facing a gigantic TV equipped with the newest videogames.

— This is so great. — Louis murmured under his breath, staring amazed at the room. Harry’s house never failed to enchant him, it just so fucking awesome. Everything you could possibly want in a home was in there. It seemed almost impossible that his best friend could be that unhappy in his life.

— Right? I decorated it myself! — Harry beamed with pride.

— Zayn didn’t help you out?

— He had better things to do. — The curly eyes boy replied with a shrug, like he didn’t care and if Louis didn’t know him better, he’d believe it. But that wasn’t the case and he detected the hurt in those green eyes in a second.

— You and this house are too good for that guy, Haz, seriously.

    Although he said it with a playful tone, Louis really meant it and Harry knew it. But it didn’t make an actual difference in his heart. The things between him and Zayn were so much more complicated and it hurt to a point where it would all become anger. _A vicious cycle of hurt and anger._

— I know, Lou. — He whispered back with a sad smile instead, because it was easier than to explain all the mess he felt.

— Well, forget Bridezilla and let’s play!

    First they played pool and Harry beat him. They ordered a gigantic mozzarella pizza and fought for the last piece, Louis joked about everything and it increasable made Harry feel lighter until he forgot Zayn completely. Afterwards there was a competition for who was going to score more in Pac-man and again, Harry was the victor. He didn’t even thought that Louis was letting him win (although that was what he kept saying because he was such a sore loser), simply for the fact that he crushed his best friend. Harry was literally that good, to be fair Louis didn’t even had a chance. But then, they played video games and Louis was fantastic at it and Harry lost in a spectacular fashion. The fierce writer didn’t stop gloating for a second.

— I think you should buy me another pizza because I killed you so many times! Need my victory feast now!

    Louis flashed him his cocky grin and it was so annoying that Harry wanted to punch the fuck out of him.

— Shut up, Louis. Don’t you have to go home any way?

— Don’t hate me just because I have superior skills in video game. And I’m free to make you company the entire evening.

    Harry rolled his eyes at him because Louis could be such an idiot sometimes.

— What about El?

— Fuck, I forget about her! — He exclaimed in panic. — What time is it?

— Six o’clock, just in time for you to get home, take a shower and order in before she arrives.

    Eleanor “El” Jane Calder was Louis’s best friend. They grew up together and were practically brothers and even though she lived in Paris, there was always a time in the month when she would come to London just to be with him. Louis was devoted to her and Harry completely understood why, El was incredibly beautiful and sweet, nobody could help but love her.

— Thanks for reminding me mate!  — Louis said while getting up from the red sofa.

— El would kill you for forgetting her.

— I know. Walk me to the door, yeah?

   Harry lazily stood up and accompanied with Louis, passing the many rooms in the second floor of his house. They walked down the sophisticated marble staircase while talking about the details of El’s visit.

  When they reached the door, Louis pulled him into a tight hug.

— Take care, okay?

— I always do. — He mumbled back into the crook of Louis’s neck.

— See you, Styles. — Louis said after he broke the embrace and then walked out the door.

   Harry stood there watching until Louis disappeared from his street.

~


	5. Hate (part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn does a little surprise for Harry and they end up watching a movie together (a lot of fluff).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYS, SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO UPDATE. BUT, THIS STUPID THING JUST HAPPENED, I WROTE THIS CHAPTER LONG AND BEAUTIFUL, BUT PART OF IT DISAPPEARED. I HAD WRITTEN ALL THIS PERFECT, PERFECT ROMANTIC SCENES BETWEEN THEM AND IT'S LOST. I'LL HAVE TO WRITE ALL OVER AGAIN. I HATE MYSELF. SO, I'M SORRY IF THIS IS SO SHORT. I CAN'T BELIEVE I FUCKING LOST IT, UGH, IT WAS PERFECT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'LL UPDATE SOON WITH THE REST OF IT, SORRY, SORRY, SORRY, SORRY. IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER, I HATING MYSELF TOO.

~

   It was ten o’clock when Zayn finally managed to get out from work. He was tired and stressed, aching for some comfort and that only made him think of Harry. From all people in the universe, that was the one Zayn wanted to make him feel better, that only could actually bring peace to his mind despite all of their fights.

   Before he went home, Zayn made a quick stop in a candy shop feeling more spontaneous than he did in a long while. When he arrived at the Victorian house, his first move was to remove his suit and then look for Harry.

   As usual, the younger man was at the TV room wrapped in his self with a black and white movie playing on mute in the television and a book hold up to his face that he was intently reading.

— Hey. — Zayn spoke quietly. If the room wasn’t immersed in complete silence, Harry wouldn’t have heard him.

— Hi. — He replied without looking away from his book. Zayn tilted his head and smiled when he read the title, it was “Pride and Prejudice”. So adequate to the situation.

— I brought you something.

  In that moment Harry’s green eyes popped in surprise. Did he hear Zayn correctly?

— It’s not much, but I thought you may like it… — He then handed Harry the bag he was holding.

   Harry gazed at him with distrust before opening the bag, but when he saw what was in it, his eyes widened with amazement and beautiful smiled appeared in his face — the one with dimples, where the glee reached his eyes and could easily light up the room, perhaps the entire world.

— Kit Kats and Gummy bears! Milk toffees too! Oh my God, I can’t believe you bought me this. Please, marry me right now.

   Zayn burst into laughter in the face of Harry’s reaction, because that man who possessed a killer beauty was such a child.

— We are already married, Styles. But I’m glad you like it. — He retorted with a sweet smile.

— Thank you very much for this. Please don’t think I’m being ungrateful, but why did you do it? — Harry asked a bit fearful, but his curiosity always took the best of him.

— You are ill and I just wanted to make you smile.

  What could Harry possibly say to that? In that moment, right there, he realized that his feelings for Zayn were bigger than he would ever acknowledge and no amount of denial would make them go away.

— You didn’t have to, but I’m really happy that you did.

— That was all that I wanted. How are you feeling today?

    Harry thought a bit before replying:

— Better, but still tired. I don’t feel a hundred per cent yet.

— It will come gradually, don’t worry. Did you eat and take your vitamins?

    The worry in Zayn’s voice was so adorable, Harry just wanted to hug him and never ever let go.

— Yes, sir. — He joked with his childish smile and Zayn _inwardly_ shivered.

— Good. So, do you want to dine together or something? I can ask Emma to cook whatever you want.

   Harry frowned, he wasn’t really hungry, even though the only thing he ate the entire day was four slices of the pizza he shared with Louis.

— I was in the mood for watching a movie and maybe some popcorn. Sorry.

— It’s okay. At least you will be eating something. — Zayn murmured trying to hide his disappointment.

    A thought flashed Harry’s mind then and he suggested before rationalizing:

— Do you want to stay here? Watch the movie, we could eat the pop corn and I could share the candy with you. — His voice was so pathetically hopeful; Harry hated himself in that moment. Zayn said no last night, _why would it be different now?_

— That would be fun. Think I’m up for this, Styles. But you have to pick something good, because I’m not going to sit through two hours of fluff romance like you do all the time.

    Harry laughed in disbelief, because Zayn was so damn ridiculous and unexpected. He would never get bored with that man.

— I don’t do it all the time and you should pay more respect to romantic movies. They are the best!

— Hell no! It’s the same story, different actors. Even worse, sometimes they don’t even have the shame to change the actors!  — Zayn argued while crossing his arms.

— It’s useless to discuss with you, Zayn. You’ll never see the light of reason.

— I’m not the one who lives in denial, Harry.

   At the moment, Harry looked away scared, wondering just how much Zayn knew about his denial.

— Whatever. — He managed to say like he didn’t care.

— Nut head. I’m going to take a shower and ask for Emma to make us popcorn. Please, choose a decent picture and don’t eat all the candy before I’m back!

— I thought they were mine to do as I please. — Harry spoke back stubbornly, like a little kid trying to test his limits.

   Zayn smiled fondly, because he couldn’t help it.

— Spoiled child. — He murmured before walking away.

— I heard that! I’m not spoiled, it’s you that are a bitter old man!

    And even though they were meters apart at that moment, the couple laughed at the exact same time. 


End file.
